There’s always someone calling themselves the King of this and a pretender claiming to be the King of that while right across the
street you’ve got the King of the other thing.
[A slow cruise of Ritchie Highway will bear me out on this with monarchs peddling everything from steamed crabs to mufflers.]
Now comes Lil Ed Williams to the 8×10 Club in South Baltimore tonight bearing the weight of a considerable crown of polished steel: King of the Slide Guitar.
That honor rightly belongs to the immortal Elmore James [1918-1963] who unleashed a violent, atom-smashing wail upon the world carried forth in his wake by Hound Dog Taylor, J.B. Hutto and white boys as diverse as the Texan Johnny Winter and Dave Hole of
Australia.
But if royalty moves through amplifiers turned up to 11 as well as bloodlines, Lil Ed has a claim. He is the well-schooled nephew of
Hutto [1926-1983], a Southside Chicago titan of slide blues guitar who regularly tore down No Fish Today on Eutaw Street until arsonists destroyed the club for good in 1982.
[The torching of No Fish Today remains one of Baltimore’s more persistent show biz riddles. Anyone with information about the unsolved arson can talk to this reporter confidentially at 310-413-4616.]
Williams, who has been gigging the globe for about as long as Hutto has been dead, said his uncle happily passed along secrets about playing slide when Ed wanted to know how a guitar could get people to stand on chairs, shake and shout.
Those mysteries are on full display on the new Blues Imperials’ album — “Full Tilt” from Alligator records — most of which was written
by Ed and his wife, Pamela.
There is also a cut —“Take Five” — credited to Hound Dog Taylor, whose “Genuine Houserocking Music” albums put the Alligator label on the blues map in the 1970s.
“My uncle taught me everything I know,” Ed has said in just about every interview he’s given. “I wouldn’t be here today without him.”
Non-musical similarities between Ed and his mother’s brother include a strong faciial resemblance, the wearing of a fez, jumping on
top of the bar, creeping around the floor on his knees while making sounds like a cat being skinned alive and hoisting his five-foot,
one-inch frame atop a bandmate’s shoulders.
All of which can be yours at 8 tonight for a cool 10 bucks at 10 E. Cross St., off Light Street.
As J.B. liked to say: “Boogie right on . . .”
